EXT. DESERT -- NIGHT
ANGLE THROUGH NIGHT VISION GLASSES. The eerie greenish-image we see shows a
group of men in the the far distance, poking around the desert landscape,
sweeping the ground with flashlights apparently searching for something.
The night vision glasses come down to reveal a painfully
young LIEUTENANT BRUCKNER. Bruckner is
perched at the lip of a valley, huddled in a coat against the chill, blowing
desert wind. Around him, the tortured
landscape of the Nevada desert almost looks like another planet under the pale
light of a bright moon. In the far
distance below him, the way Old West settlements must have looked a hundred
years ago, is a small huddle of Quonset huts and tents, their windows giving
off a warm glow. DISTANT STRAINS of a CD-player
letting out rock and roll, some men LAUGHING are carried to us on the sighing
desert wind.
In the valley far below the huts beneath Bruckner's position
we can see the sweep of flashlights in the dark. Again Bruckner raises his night vision glasses for a better look
at them.
EXT. DESERT, OTHER
SITE -- NIGHT
SOLDIERS, indistinct in the dark and wrapped up against the
wind, are scurrying about in TEAMS OF TWO -- this is the search team Bruckner
has been watching. They are supervised
by another soldier standing in the rear of a jeep, observing the search process
through binoculars. In the dark, we can
only make out the gleam of his cap insignia:
A COLONEL'S EAGLE. A RADIOMAN
sits in the jeep with The Colonel, feeding him reports.
RADIOMAN
Team Delta has cleared their
sector: no sign.
Team Bravo reports they're starting
the bottom
sweep of the quadrant: no sign so far.
A SOLDIER comes running up to The Colonel.
SOLDIER
Colonel! We lost the tracks in the wind but it
looked like they were turning out of
the sweep
area towards the camp.
COLONEL
Damn...
EXT. DESERT,
BRUCKNER SITE -- NIGHT
Bruckner is still observing the searchers below, still
trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Suddenly, SOMETHING GRABS HIM AND THROWS HIM TO THE GROUND. A startled Bruckner finds himself looking up
into the MUZZLES OF TWO M-16s. A
FLASHLIGHT hits him in the face. Behind
the light are TWO SEARCHERS, their faces hidden by the dark.
SEARCHER
#1
You move, you die. Get his I.D.
Searcher #2 rifles Bruckner's pocket until he finds his I.D., flashes it under
his light. He shows it to Searcher
#1. The M-16s are lowered and they help
Bruckner to his feet.
SEARCHER
#2
Jesus, Lieutenant, what the hell're
you doing up here?
SEARCHER
#1
Call it in.
Searcher #2 steps away a bit. He has a WALKIE/TALKIE with him.
SEARCHER
#2
This is Team Alpha.
RADIO
(O.S.)
This is Search Six. Go ahead, Alpha.
SEARCHER
#2
We've got an intruder in the search
area.
RADIO
(O.S.)
What about the target?
SEARCH
#2
No sign of the target.
During the radio communication, Bruckner reaches out for his
I.D. but Searcher #1 doesn't give it up.
SEARCHER
#1
Sorry, Lieutenant, I have to wait
for word from about
just what we're supposed to do with
you. I think you
just got yourself ass-high in
trouble.
(to his partner)
Hey! Do they want us to bring the lieutenant back
to the lab compound or --
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
But Searcher #2 isn't there. Where he was standing is just HIS HELMET, spinning like a top in
the sand. When it stops spinning, we
see that ONE SIDE HAS BEEN SPLIT OPEN.
ANGLE ON THE HELMET:
BLOOD DRIPS from the severed chin strap.
BRUCKNER
What the hell -- ?
SEARCHER
#1
Shit! Run, Lieutenant!
BRUCKNER
What --
SEARCHER
#1
Run!
Bruckner stumbles backwards. He turns to run, trips in the dark. He looks behind him.
Searcher #1 is gone.
BRUCKNER
Trooper? Trooper!
He's scared now.
There's NOISES OUT THERE; something skittering around in the dark. He bolts, scrambling down the slope of the
valley, heading towards the apparent safety of the Quonset hut camp below. He falls, skitters down the slope to the
bottom of the valley. He freezes,
listening. He looks back up the
slope. No sign; no sound. He smiles, relieved -- he's almost
home. But when he turns back to the
Quonset huts, he sees nothing but black:
something large is BLOCKING HIS WAY.
He looks up, a SHADOW FALLING ACROSS HIM. His eyes go wide in terror, his mouth opens but there's no
scream.
ANGLE ON Bruckner's feet, where he's been curled up in his
observer position. Bruckner is YANKED
INTO THE AIR, HIS FEET KICKING. Then
the feet stop kicking and ONE OF THE LEGS, SEVERED, DROPS TO THE GROUND.
FADE TO BLACK
-- to the sound of the sighing desert wind.
CUT TO:
EXT. AERIAL -- DAY
A U.S. Army helicopter skims across the desert, the
water-carved gullies and mesas sliding below.
From horizon to horizon, the country is barren, the only sign of man the
helicopter; the only sound cutting through the wind whistling around the
prehistoric rock spires the beating of the chopper blades.
INT. HELICOPTER --
DAY
PATRICIA SIMONS -- early 30s, trim, quietly attractive and
doing nothing to draw attention to it, with a no-nonsense air -- a major in the
Military Police, watches the desert slip by below. In the cockpit sits a PILOT, a woman lieutenant, and CO-PILOT,
both young and cocky.
PILOT
(whistles)
Hey, Major!
Pat moves to the front of the chopper, sticking her head
into the cockpit between the Pilot and Co-Pilot. The Pilot hands her a headset so they don't have to shout back
and forth. The Pilot points to a
massive CRATER coming up: it's the
blast crater from an underground nuclear test blast.
PILOT
That's from one of the first ones
they ever set off.
Musta made some big bang, huh,
Major? You ever
see them light off one of those
babies?
PAT
Just in the movies.
The pilot points to a barely perceptable smudge on the
horizon.
PILOT
Comin' up on your stop, Major.
PAT
Doesn't look like much.
PILOT
It isn't.
Pat looks down at the control panel and sees the fuel gauge
wavering around the half-way point.
PAT
Are we going to make it?
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
PILOT
We always make it.
(shares a grin with
the Co-Pilot)
Just.
The chopper slips into a banking turn that seems to take
them away from their target.
PAT
Where are you heading?
PILOT
Security measure. Each flight out is assigned a different
compass bearing as an approach
path. Wrong path; you
don't get in. Just a second, Major.
A RADIO TRANSMISSION is breaking in over their headsets.
RADIO
(O.S.)
This is Lab 7 Central to approaching
aircraft. I have
you on approach bearing
one-zero-niner. Prepare
for voice identification. Identify, over.
PILOT
Noonan, J.F.., Lieutenant,
149-50-2536. I'm carrying
one crewman, one passenger, and
routine cargo. Over.
A beat.
PILOT
(to Pat)
Takes a bit. They've got a voice print and stress
analyzer
at the other end.
RADIO (O.S.)
Identification confirmed. Proceed to landing, the smoke
will give you the wind. Lab 7 Central out.
PILOT
Roger that, Seven. Out.
As the pilot banks the chopper into his approach path, Pat
whistles appreciatively.
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
PAT
They keep it pretty tight out here,
huh?
PILOT
(laughing)
They used to have just two pilots
for this run. One
time my back-up was on leave and I
had laryngytis.
They almost starved out here.
They are over the lab grounds now, and the Pilot brings the
chopper in lower, circling.
PAT
That's it?
CO-PILOT
Major, you mind me askin' what you
did that was
so bad they sent you out here?
PILOT
It had to be something real
bad.
The Pilot brings the helicopter in lower, circling two
installations Only the first -- the
compound of Quonset huts -- shows signs of life; men in uniform milling around,
looking up at the chopper, waving. The
other compound is at the end of a connecting dirt track. It's a large fenced-in area, the only
structure a grim-looking, windowless concrete block. The roof of the monolith is topped with a cupola -- the lab's
SECURITY & COMMAND CENTER -- and a pair of LARGE VENTILATION GRILLS.
PILOT
(indicating fenced area)
That one's the lab, but you probably
won't have much to
do with that.
PRIVATE ELMONTE sits by the LZ near a pile of drab
rocks. He's painting them white to
complete the circle of white stones around the LZ: the base's one concession to landscaping. PRIVATES LOOMIS, HERRERA and DELANEY stand
by the LZ. Herrera tosses a SMOKE
GRENADE near the LZ to indicate wind direction.
EXT. BASE -- DAY
The Pilot sets the chopper down on the LZ. Elmonte is miffed; the cloud of dust sticks
to the freshly painted stones.
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
As the rotor blades start to windmill, a jeep pulls out to
the chopper. At the wheel sits MASTER
SERGEANT JINSKI, a large, glowering black man.
Only his fatigue pants denote the military. He wears sneakers, a Hawaiian shirt, and a yachting cap, and his
cheek holds a wad of tobacco as big as a baseball. Herrera, Loomis and Delaney slouch out onto the LZ and loll
around behind Jinski's jeep. They are
disheveled, casual, although none dressed as outrageously as Jinski. The Co-Pilot is standing in the open cargo
door of the chopper, and Jinski parks his rear on the top of the backrest of
the driver's seat.
CO-PILOT
Hey, Jinx!
JINSKI
Fuck you.
CO-PILOT
Oh, we're in a mellow mood today,
huh?
JINSKI
Fuck your sister.
The Co-Pilot starts tossing Jinski loaded duffel bags which
Jinksi, in turn, drops to the ground.
CO-PILOT
I gotcher mail here, some crap for
the docs, some
new movies --
JINSKI
What movies?
The Co-Pilot checks a manifest.
CO-PILOT
A love story --
JINSKI
Shiiiit...
CO-PILOT
-- drama, drama, drama --
JINSKI
Shit, shit, shit...
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
CO-PILOT
Oh, but they got one here picked out
especially for you:
"Satan's Schoolgirl
Slaves."
JINSKI
Ahhhh...
This one Jinski pulls out of one of the canvas bag and tucks
in his belt before he tosses the bag onto the growing pile near the jeep.
CO-PILOT
And this is the Major's stuff.
The Co-Pilot tosses out another duffel -- which Jinski
tosses in the back of the jeep -- and stands back as Pat stands in the door,
not quite happy with the apparition propped up in the jeep.
JINSKI
You
must be Major Simons.
PAT
What the hell're you?
JINSKI
Checker cab. Welcome to Lab 7.
Pat agilely jumps to the ground and walks to the jeep.
CO-PILOT
(sarcastic)
Enjoy your stay, Major!
The Co-Pilot closes the door behind her and before she even reaches the jeep the chopper
engines whine and kick in. The Pilot
gives Pat a wave and soon the bird is gone.
For a moment, Pat stands there, blinking in the dust tossed up by the
desert wind. Elmonte has gone back to his
painting, seemingly oblivious to her presence.
PAT
They don't stick around long.
JINSKI
Would you? I'm Jinski. Resident
bad-ass. Call me Jinx.
Loomis, a dull-looking type, gives Pat's figure an
uncamouflaged, tactless
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
appraisal. They all
call out a few hello's to the new officer, all missing the word
"Sir." Pat smiles
disarmingly. The men pretty much ignore
her -- except for Loomis -- busying
themselves going through the pile of duffel bags from the chopper.
PAT
(quietly)
Gentlemen: attention.
They don't quite hear.
LOOMIS
You say somethin', Chief?
PAT
(smiling)
Why, yes, I did.
(stone-faced, bellowing)
'TEN-HUT!
It hits the men like thunder -- even Elmonte. Jinski sits stunned in his jeep.
PAT
(to Jinski)
You need a special invitation,
Mister?
Jinski scrambles out of the jeep and joins the others in a
text book formation. Pat looks them
over, this time letting her disgust show.
She taps Jinski unpleasantly on the cheek where the tobacco is stowed.
PAT
Get rid of that.
Jinski cocks his head to spit.
PAT
Don't you dirty up my LZ, Mister!
Jinski braces himself and swallows. The other men look almost as sick at the
sight as Jinski does doing it.
PAT
Private Jinski --
JINSKI
That's Sergeant --
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
PAT
We'll see about that. Let me see that shirt.
JINSKI
Huh?
PAT
It's "Huh, Ma'am!" I said give me that shirt.
Jinski peals off his shirt and hands it to Pat. Pat takes a cigarette lighter from her
pocket and sets the shirt on fire.
PAT
It's either "Ma'am," or
"Major," or "Major Simons,"
from now on, people. Understood?
ALL
Yes, Ma'am!
PAT
"F Troop" has just been cancelled. You are now back
in the Army. Jinski:
where's the acting C.O.?
JINSKI
Building right behind you, Sir, uh,
Ma'am.
PAT
Thank you. See that my gear is placed in my quarters.
JINSKI
Yes, Ma'am, right away, Ma'am.
PAT
Now!
JINSKI
Yes, Ma'am!
Jinski leaps into the jeep, starts the engine and roars off.
PAT
The rest of you, square this crap
away.
ALL
Yes, Ma'am.
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
Pat heads off across the LZ to the building Jinski pointed
out as the other soldiers cart off the chopper's off-load. She stops when she reaches Elmonte still at
attention.
PAT
As you were, Picasso. You're the only sad-ass around
here who seems to have an honest-to-
God purpose in life.
Pat passes on while Elmonte returns to painting his stones.
LOOMIS
(leering)
I like 'em tough.
DELANEY
G'ahead, Loom. Give it a shot. You're safe; only
the good die young.
INT. MP BUILDING --
DAY
The MP Building is a small Quonset, with a tiny waiting area
and two cramped offices. A coffee
machine bubbles over in one corner of the waiting area. When Pat enters, one of the office doors --
the one marked "COMMMANDING OFFICER" -- is closed. Through the open door of the other office,
Pat can see WARRANT OFFICER CHO -- a young, wry, Oriental fellow -- reclining
in his desk chair, chatting on his phone.
He has a sketch pad in his lap and, pencil in hand, is absently
sketching out a rather nice landscape.
Cho sees Pat, waves her in.
CHO
(into phone)
Yes, Sir, as a matter of fact, she
just walked in the
door. Why don't I bring her over in just a few.
Cho hangs up, stands, smiling, and extends a welcoming hand.
CHO
Good to see you, Major.
PAT
You are-- ?
CHO
Alexander Cho.
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
Pat studies him critically.
Her eyes move around the office, walls cluttered with memorandae,
rosters, some travel posters, and landscape sketches, mostly of snow-covered
mountains. Cho, his extended hand now
feeling awkward, lets it fall to his side.
PAT
It's customary to identify yourself
by rank, Cho.
CHO
Warrant Officer Cho, Ma'am.
PAT
A salute is also customary, I
believe.
Cho is now at attention.
He delivers a snappy salute, and Pat returns it. She pokes around on Cho's desk, also
cluttered. She fingers an open book of
crossword puzzles.
PAT
You fellas seem to have been running
a pretty
informal shop out here.
CHO
Didn't seem reason not to way out here.
I take it you
prefer otherwise, Ma'am.
PAT
Very perceptive of you, Mr. Cho.
CHO
You're the boss, Ma'am.
PAT
That's right.
Pat smiles approvingly at Cho's blend of humor and
already-corrected demeanor.
PAT
You're my X.O.?
CHO
I have that distinct honor, Ma'am.
PAT
That my office next door?
(CONTINUED)
(CONTINUED)
CHO
This way, Ma'am.
Cho leads Pat into the other office. It's the twin of his only this one is sadly
barren.
CHO
Whatever you need, Ma'am, you let me
know.
PAT
(poking through drawers
empty but for stationary)
Good enough. My predecessor...
CHO
Lieutenant Bruckner.
PAT
Friend of yours?
CHO
(shrugging)
We were here together for a couple
of months, Ma'am.
He was a nice fella. Didn't seem the type.
PAT
Type?
CHO
You knew he was a suicide, didn't
you, Ma'am?
PAT
No, I didn't. I'm sorry.
CHO
Colonel McElhone says some guys just
don't do
well isolated like this.